


Pipe Down!

by MizJoely



Series: Sherlolly AU Prompts [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Sherlolly - Freeform, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>finish-the-hat-george said: AU prompt? I SWEAR to GOD if I hear you showering at THREE IN THE MORNING again, I will seriously fight you, the pipes in this building are RIGHT above my bedroom, WHY are you taking showers at THREE AM</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pipe Down!

**Author's Note:**

> Uni!lock because I love that trope!

_Clang! Clang! Rattle!_

Molly groaned and rolled onto her stomach, pulling her pillow over her head to try (unsuccessfully) to muffle the noise of the water pipes banging merrily away over her head. For the third night in a row the boy whose room was right above hers in the dorm was taking a fucking shower at three in the goddam morning. Why, why, WHY?? Who showered at three in the goddam morning? On a school night, no less?

She sat up abruptly, her temper boiling over, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and jumping down. Her roommate, Meena Patel, slept blissfully on at the opposite side of the room; once she was asleep it would take a literal earthquake to wake her up. Molly envied her so much at this moment. She stalked around the room they shared, fingers in her ears, until finally she couldn’t take it any longer. Grabbing a sweatshirt, she threw it on over her t-shirt, not bothering to pull on her jeans over her baggy sleep shorts, slipped out of the room, and charged up the stairs to the boy’s floor.

She reached the proper door and began pounding on it; if she couldn’t sleep, damn it all, then why should anyone else? (Except the near-comatose Meena of course, lucky cow!) She did stop short of shouting as her innate sense of fairness penetrated her sleep-deprived anger, and was soon rewarded by the sound of the lock turning. She stepped back as the door was wrenched open, her mouth open to deliver a scathing commentary on the appropriate times to shower in a building with pipes as old as this one…and left it hanging open at the sight that greeted her.

One gorgeous, glowering six-foot tall hunk of lean, pale maleness, clad only in a towel draped around narrow hips, low enough that a line of gingery hair peeked above it stood before her. The hair on the vision’s (angry, pouting, glaring) head was darker than the body hair, dripping wet but clearly curly, and the eyes…oh, she’d never seen eyes that color before, or rather that brilliant (pissed off) combination of colors. “Heterochromia iridum!” she blurted, then blushed at what must seem like a very strange non sequitur.

The boy’s eyebrows raised themselves up toward his dripping hair. “That’s not what most people say when they meet me,” he drawled.

“Oh? What do they usually say?” Molly couldn’t stop herself from asking. This was definitely the weirdest encounter she’d ever, uh, encountered, but since she was the one who’d initiated it she could hardly blame him! Wait, wrong, of course she could blame him, he was the one who’d woken her up in the first place!

“They usually say piss off,” he replied, blank-faced.

Molly’s temper had returned as she recalled why she was here. “Can’t say I blame them,” she snapped. “And trust me, I didn’t come up here to meet you…I mean, yes, I did, but it’s your fault!” His lips twitched and she swore she would slap him if he laughed at her, but ploughed gamely on. Honestly, if she’d know how good looking the late-night shower-taker would be…no, no, focus, Hooper! “It’s the pipes, my room’s right under yours and you’ve woken me up three nights in a row by taking your stupid showers at three in the morning. WHY are you taking showers at this time of night?”

She’d raised her voice a bit by the last question, still flustered and more than a tiny bit turned on by the boy’s casual near-nudity, and the sound of someone’s muffled voice from behind her made her jump. “Oi! Holmes! Get your client inside or I swear to fucking God I’ll – ”

“Go back to sleep, Gavin, Molly and I were just going inside!” The boy – Holmes – called out, then stepped out of the door and ushered her inside. She followed in a daze, but not before hearing the other boy shout, “It’s Greg, you tit!”

“Wait, how did you know my name?” she asked as soon as the door shut behind them. Her eyes darted around the messy confines of the dorm room; there were two beds but neither was occupied; one was neatly made up, the other a messy pile of blankets and pillows and twisted sheets. “And what did he mean, client? What are you, some kind of, of male prostitute?” The last two words were practically whispered, and she felt her face turning red with mortification. Not that there was anything wrong with sex workers, she wasn’t that closed-minded and it would certainly explain the odd hours for shower-taking, but still…

He was rolling his eyes as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his (very fit and nearly hairless) chest. “Consulting detective,” he corrected her. “Sherlock Holmes. And you’re Molly Hooper, third year, studying medicine but interested in pathology. Your roommate is Meena Patel – ”

“And you’re the guy she hired to find her earrings when campus security just shrugged her off and said they were probably stolen,” Molly breathed as she recognized his name. She’d been in London for a week with some other medical students for a conference and had missed all the excitement. Leave it to Meena not to mention how good-looking Sherlock Holmes was – or that he lived right above them!

“Yup,” he replied, popping the p and grinning at her. “Meena pointed you out to me once, after we discovered we were above- and below-floor neighbors. She also pointed out that you were a light sleeper after I mentioned how noisy the pipes were. And that you were usually even tempered, but completely lost it when your sleep was interrupted.”

His grin widened, and the penny dropped – as did Molly’s jaw. “Wait, so you’re saying the two of you set this up? Deliberately?” Her face was red again, this time from fury. “Well, lovely, your practical joke worked,” she snapped, turning toward the door. “You two can have a nice laugh at my expense, I’ll just go back to my room now.”

“Wait, no, that’s not…it wasn’t meant as a practical joke!” Sherlock said. Molly turned back to face him in surprise – he sounded rather desperate, not at all what she expected. He was biting his (lush, plump, gorgeous) lower lip and rubbing one hand over the top of his head, dislodging further drops of water to run down his (sharp, amazing, even more gorgeous) cheekbones. “It was…I’m not very good with this sort of thing,” he mumbled. “I just thought it would be…what I actually wanted was…”

“Sherlock Holmes,” Molly cut in, lips curling up in a smile in spite of herself, “are you telling me you messed with my sleep just because you wanted to meet me?”

“Notjustmeetyouaskyouout,” he said in a rush, then peered up at her hopefully from beneath his (long, lush, dark) eyelashes. “Not good?”

“Not good,” she agreed, her grin widening. “But not bad, either. So. I’ve only a half-day tomorrow – well, today, actually. Coffee at one?”

“Black, two sugars,” he replied with a cheeky grin. Then he stuck his hand out. “Nice to finally meet you, Molly Hooper.”

“Nice to finally meet you, too, Sherlock Holmes,” she replied as she took his hand. “It’s a date. Oh!” she added as she allowed her gaze to drop lower on his body. “Do remember to wear pants, yeah?”

Then she waltzed out of his room and back down to hers, grinning madly the entire time.

This was going to either be the best coffee date of her life, or a complete disaster. And she couldn’t _wait_ to find out which it would be.


End file.
